


Another dream, another demon.

by Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Depression, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 17:25:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17005956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama





	Another dream, another demon.

_Her eyes opened, to meet ocean-deep turquoise that moved from worry to joy. “Thank the Maker.  I was so worried.”  Anders smiled, pure and happy as a child.  “Come along, Champion.  Orsino asked us to join him for dinner, and I thought you’d keep sleeping.  If I’d tried to wake you like I was considering, we_ would _have been late.”_

_Sabah blinked up at him, at an expression that fit oddly on his face. “Orsino?”_

_A chuckle. “Orsino.  To thank you for everything you did to open up the Gallows.  Bethany should be there, and a few others.  Cullen even offered to escort us ‘fellow Fereldens.’  Kind of him, after everything.”_

No.

_“You’re not real._

_Orsino had no interest in her, the Gallows would never be open…and Bethany hadn’t answered any of her letters. She remembered…she hadn’t seen Beth since she’d put her hand on the Knight-Captain’s arm, to be locked away._

_“Love?” His honey-rich brows wrinckled.  You …what is it?  Is this some bad joke for my not finding the time to wake you properly?”  There was the shift behind the turquoise.  A far too familiar one, for someone who wasn’t a mage._

**

A twist of long practice let her sit up in bed, the darkness of her room in the Estate around her. A sleepy protest from the back next to her, and Sabah carefully slid out of bed to keep from waking her lover with the ease of repetition.  Quill and ink near her bed…she made a mark on the calendar.  How long had it been since the last desire demon tried to claim her?  The calendar blurred.  Too often, since Anders moved in.  He’d not told her whether it was the presence of Justice, or whether it was due to the increasing tension and blood across the city.

“Sabah.”

Her heart skipped a moment. “I’ll be right back, love.  It was another nightmare.”

He rolled over. “Another one?  I’d hoped…”  He sat, brushing back his loose hair when he saw a tear.  “Sabah?”

Anders held her, and the tears kept falling. “Oh, love.”  His lips brushed her hair as gently as he held her, then temple.  They drifted to her cheek and whispered across her own lips, soft and damp.  “Every tear I’ve caused, every moment of pain.  I’ll make them up to you.  I swear it.  Come back to bed, come with me.”  She couldn’t deny him her mouth, closing her eyes as her arms wrapped around his lanky height.  His hands were so soft as they ran up her neck to cup her face. _‘The joys of a healer mage – the salves, potions, and constant hand-washing.’_

“My love,” she breathed. He’d _never_ held her like this.

His kiss deepened until he broke it off to look into her eyes, then lean his forehead against hers. His hands drifted down, circled her again, traced the lines of her back.  “Come with me.  I’ll kiss away the tears, take away your pain.  You deserve so much more, and I’ll give it to you.  First. Always.”

The tears fell faster, and she buried her face against his chest.

“Sabah? My love?  Whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry.  Tell me what I need to do.”  His voice was soft, helpless.

The dagger was in her hand again, and she drove it through his back, through their hearts. Again.

Again and again.

Sabah opened her eyes, cheek against the embroidered chair. Dust, dead air, and despair filled her nose, heavy and familiar. _Again._ The last of her tears had fallen when Cullen left her to stillness and darkness, the shattered cocoon that kept the pain from shredding what little was left of the woman she’d once been.  There was a glass of water – she drank thirstily, the water pouring easily down the wreck of her.  When it was gone, she let the glass slip through her fingers to join the shattered wreckage of the others, a pile of fragments and splinters so like she was against the dust-covered carpets.

Her fingers picked through until she found a piece easy enough to hold, and drew another slash across her arm. _One for every attempt._ Every night she had to re-live his death, in whatever cruel mockery the demons chose that time.  The lines crossed each other in a crazy pattern, the newest few still angry and red.  This one dripped blood down her elbow and onto the pile of broken glass.

Blood and shattered pieces.

That was all left of her.

Blood, and shattered pieced – the glasses, her soul. Dull sapphire eyes glanced into the cold hearth and she fought to not remember.  Memories only brought pain.  How long since Varric had come again?

Three glasses left.

She had time before she had to pretend again, and laid her head back against the chair. The demons, Cullen had said, would begin to fade as the Veil healed.  Anders had shattered that as surely as the Circle, as surely as what was left of her heart.

No. The dreams didn’t let her forget. _She_ was the one who killed her heart.


End file.
